


Incarceration

by jonnymonts



Category: Gerard Way and the Hormones, My Chemical Romance, frnkiero andthe cellabration
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Blood, Death, Frerard, M/M, Murder, Prison, Violence, non con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnymonts/pseuds/jonnymonts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank would notice the kids held up in this hell hole for petty crimes in comparison to the creatures here and he'd see them get destroyed. Pretty boys can't survive in prison. Pretty boys won't survive in prison. And that's why the red haired pixie that just got dragged through the doors was well and truly fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prison

The plan was to keep his head down and his nose clean. Serve the time, obey the rules, don't fuck around and get the fuck out. Obviously where Frank's limits were pushed he'd break his bulletproof plan for a second, just to punch the odd joker who didn't quite get the rules of incarceration. In Frank's opinion, he was doing pretty well. Not many scuffs or battles. Plus when it came to social segregation he had the Mafia on his side due to his Italian background, so he was pretty much okay. Not that prison was much of a joyride, you can't expect much from a high security prison in mid-New Jersey though, can you?

The cells of New Jersey held the lowest of the low. The scum that had been tweezed out as too dangerous to belong in a regular prison. Westwood prison was where the borderline clinically insane were hoarded-who were just too ghastly to earn any sympathy from doctors and lawyers. Pedophiles, rapists, murders, drug lords, crime lords, psychopaths, torturers. Frank didn't really belong there, however getting involved in the high end of a drug and human trafficking industry and getting caught was not exactly his brightest idea. Selling methylphenidate to Ritalin rats, cocaine to crack-heads, crack to crack whores. Ecstasy, heroin, LSD, magic mushrooms, methadone, crystal meth, amphetamines, barbiturates, codeine, ketamine, synthetic cannabinoids, diazepam- Frank just knew where to get it, how to move it and how to sell it. Who the fuck wouldn't take an opportunity like that? It was a genius plan and the only spanner in the works was that Frank got caught. And was serving seven years for it.

He was on his fourth year and Frank was used to the get up of the prison, don't stand on other people feet and they won't stand on yours. Don't mess with the Italians- they're probably Mafia. Don't mess with the blacks- they're probably lifting weights on every break. Don't mess with the whites- they're probably perverts. Don't mess with anyone- because they'll probably fucking _kill you_. The good thing, however, about this prison was cell mates were shipped in from God knows where, so most people could decorate their back stories with a little more intimidation, or hide them if required. And although Frank felt pretty comfortable with his position in the hell he called home, he could never truly relax. There was always the ever present risk that someone would mistake him for a defenceless prison bitch and that quite honestly scared the living shit out of him. Frank routinely thanked his holy hosts and moons and stars that thank god he didn't have doey eyes or soft lips or a perk ass- because he wouldn't survive in here. He'd notice the kids held up in this hell hole for petty crimes in comparison to the creatures here and he'd see them get destroyed. Pretty boys can't survive in prison. Pretty boys _won't_ survive in prison. And that's why the red haired pixie that just got dragged through the doors was well and truly _fucked_.


	2. Deathwish

Frank noticed the squirming boy getting dragged in by two burley officers. Everyone noticed the squirming boy getting dragged in by two burley officers because frankly- he was gorgeous. His eyes resembled a deers; wide and caught in the head lights. They were lined with fluttery eyelashes making the man appear soft however the grin resting on his lips gave a fiercer edge. He had cheekbones like fine razors that allowed the overhead lights to cast shadows on his face, dulling the fire that had been lit by his orange jumpsuit and his alarmingly red hair that showed black roots. The boys hair was a riot, but not the type of riot that is unattractive, the kind that enchants a person, makes them curious to the mysterious face hidden behind the mass of hair. The boy was _rare_.

In time with Frank's thoughts whistles erupted throughout the zoo, how early was too soon for the animals to prime their lamb? Throughout the howling, distinct words were being thrown towards the red-haired boy.

"Look at that fuckin' fairy!"  
"Oh, fuck! Look at that ass!"  
"Pretty boy, come here, come here let me get a look at you!"  
"Oh man, that princess is _fucked_!"

Too right, Frank thought. He was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. It's not out of place in prison to admit a guy is hot. In a place full of horny men and freaky fetishes it's commonplace for men to fuck in the showers- but it's a _deathwish_ to admit that you are actually gay. If you're openly gay or flamboyant or pretty- prison will be hell. And that's why Frank kids on that the women who visits him once every month is in fact not his cousin but his girlfriend. It's ingenious really, what better way to hide your sexuality than to kid on your fucking a blond chick with big tits?

Everyone's a liar in prison- including Frank and he hoped for the cute red head's sake that he was a liar too. Frank turned his head to the boy and analysed him more deeply, although it was quite hard to see his face when caged up thirty feet away. The boys face was screwed up into a grimace, turning his features weakly threatening. He was still squirming as his gaze analysed the other cell mates hollering at him. His eyes passed Franks and he stared back. His lips were pulled into a thin line as his angry eyebrows frowned in his direction.

"Come on, sunshine", the prison guard taunted to the new edition, gripping his arms firmly. The guards face was red with exhaustion from trying to keep the agitated boy contained.

"Fuck off", the pixie-boy replied, elbowing the guard in the stomach. The prison erupted in laughter and Frank cringed internally. Why was this fairy-like man trying to act intimidating? Did he not realise his effeminate demeanour made him look truly and utterly _pathetic_? The prison guard responded by twisting the boys arm behind his back and a few "ooooo"'s were heard from the watching inmates. When the guard earned no reaction from the red-head, he twisted his arm further and further, until the boy appeared mangled and a few of the softer cell mates gagged at the almost dislocating position of the boy's arm. And yet he remained, his face grimaced in anger, not in pain. If anything the boy looked completely unaffected by the guard's attempt to hurt him.

"What the f..", Frank murmured in confusion. Did the boy have a really high tolerance for pain? Was he drugged up to the eyeballs? Why wasn't he reacting?

"Officer?", the boy asked quietly, Frank tried to strain his ears to hear what the red-head had to say however the whole prison immediately quietened- everyone was interested.

"What?", the guard chuckled obviously pleased that his movements had penetrated the boy's nonchalant attitude. Everyone anticipated what the boys pathetic response would be. For a while Frank had gotten slightly excited that this new boy was something special. His tolerance for pain showed something that no small pixie man had ever shown. But the pain had managed to break his facade. He wasn't strong like Frank had guessed for a moment; he was weak, just like every other prison bitch. Frank quickly gazed around and noticed some were touching themselves at the agonising display. Poor fucking kid.

Frank looked back to the boy and listened intently as he began to speak again. He looked down to his pouty lips as the boy bit them, considering for a second, before breathing out and saying.

"Bend my arm a little further officer, I'm about to cum".

The prison erupted.

Franks mouth fell to the floor. His eyes bulged in their sockets. His jaw physically dropped. No fucking way. The pixie man did not just make a sexual joke towards a prison guard. The other cell mates were a sight too; some were slack jawed like Frank, most were jeering and clapping, some had came. And although the red-head had basically signed his own death-wish, Frank felt admiration pool at the pit of his stomach. No one had the guts to make sex jokes at officers, especially not in front of other inmates and more importantly not tiny effeminate men.

It was then Frank recognised the fire in the man's eyes.

The straight prison guard, however, probably got laid on a regular basis as Frank presumed, so wasn't that into making another man cum. He made a noise of disgust, so high pitched it was heard over the jeering. He then smacked the boy over the head to which he replied "Harder, faster, come on I'm close". Frank couldn't believe his ears. What the fuck. What the actual _fuck_. This boy had basically handed himself to the wolves of the prison. He was acting-outrightly-gay. Frank watched the cell mates lick their lips, anticipating the day they could get their hands on the feisty over-confident man.

"You piece of fucking shit!", the officer bellowed, slapping the boy a final time. The boy moaned sensually and bit his lip. He fucking _moaned_. Frank and most the cell mates were hot and flustered by this point. Frank seen too many evident boner outlines as inmates pressed themselves against the cage. No one could take their eyes off of the boy.

"Open up cell 152", the guard directed to the other. Frank swore under his breath as he realised Gerard would be in the cell only a couple of metres horizontal from his own, with one of the most terrifying motherfuckers in Westwood. He sighed deeply as the officer then turned back to the red-head.

"Now Way, you better learn to fucking behave yourself or it's isolation for you. You got it?" So his name was Way.

  
"This is your new cellie!", the guard introduced Clarkson to Way. It was just Way's luck that he ended up in a cell with one of the biggest perverts in the whole prison. The guard turned to Clarkson and shook his hand.  
"Here's your new gift", he smirked. "Watch, it's fragile". The officer proceeded to grab Way by the jaw and narrowly looked into his eyes. "Have fun with the wolves", he murmured before shoving the boy into the cell. The jeering re-erupted, along with a chorus of thank you's to the prison guard for bringing in the fresh meat.

"Have fun with him boys", the guard mocked as he slammed the cell door shut. Way remained, very still and completely silent in his cell, gazing around curiously before his eyes settled on Clarkson who smiled wickedly.

"Well, well, well", Clarkson mocked. "Look-y look-y what we have here!" He stalked up to Way and looked down at him interestedly. Way looked up to the tall man, his face devoid of all emotion. Clarkson was strong, not in the sense that he spent every waking hour in the gym, it was if it was natural muscle that lined his body. He was old, early fifties, but as Frank had learned age did not mean weakness, especially in prison. The most influential and commanding cell mates were usually old. They came from gangs or had the time to earn reputations that were ultimately fearful. Clarkson smirked down at Way. His dark eyes contrasting with his pale white skin making him appear all the more sinister.  
"What's your name sweetheart?", he taunted, his hand reaching out to stroke Way's skin. Way stared up at the man from under his eyelashes. Frank shuddered, poor kid.  
"You heard the man", the boy uttered, pulling back from Clarkson's delicate touch on his face.  
"It's Way". Way then proceeded to turn to the beds and walked away from Clarkson.  
"You top or bottom bunk?", Way asked, holding onto the bars of the cheap bed with his delicate hands.  
"Oh honey, I'm a top", Clarkson replied, earning laughter from the cell mates who could hear him. Way rolled his eyes in response and pulled a long smile, before sitting down on the bottom bunk.  
"So", Clarkson smirked as he sat down next to Way, putting his hand on the younger mans thigh and squeezing it gently. Frank gagged in his mouth at the display. It was so revolting yet he couldn't turn his eyes away. He was enchanted by this new man. Frank watched as Way put his hand on top of Clarkson's and squeezed it, earning a chuckle from the creep. Frank furrowed his brows in confusion as Way then laced his fingers into the other mans. The red-head then lifted Clarkson's hand and looked at it curiously before dropping it back onto Clarkson's own lap. Clarkson didn't seem to take the hint and lifted his hand again before letting it wander on Way's thigh.  
"How old are you pretty boy?", Clarkson asked as Way-again- returned his hand and shuffled away from the older man a little.  
"I'm thirty. You?", Way replied before gazing at his nails in an effeminate manner and yet again Clarkson returned his hand onto Way's leg.  
"Thirty!", Clarkson scoffed, earning another eruption of laughter from nearby cells.  
"Don't lie to me honey". Way removed Clarkson's hand yet again.

"For fuck sake!", the older man hissed before shoving his hand into Way's crotch.  
"You were fucking gaggin' to get played with two minutes ago and now y'all pushy and shovy!" He gripped Way harshly through his pants and Frank put his hand to his mouth. If newboy was raped already, he was gonna be sick. Surprisingly, Way remained calm as Clarkson's hands attempted to grope him through his trousers. delicately, Way picked up the elders hands and looked deeply into Clarkson's eyes. Clarkson, intrigued by the boy, didn't attempt to snatch his hand away. Way's eyes looked sultry under their eyelashes. He bit his lip sensually and breathed gently before locking his gaze with Clarkson's and whispering in a flustered breath, "Touch me again and I'll break off you're fucking fingers and fuck your ass with them".

Frank's jaw dropped for the second time as the bell rang for lunch. So shocked he stood, frozen, in his cell. The tiny pixie man had fucking _balls_. The automatic cells opened and chatter erupted as the inmates rose from their cages to go to lunch. Way dropped Clarkson's hand and rose from his bunk, before smiling sarcastically down at the man. He then elegantly strolled out of the cell as the elder man bellowed after him.

"Saved by the bell. Just wait till tonight, baby!"

Way responded by skipping off with his middle finger raised high behind him.

That fiesty red-haired pixie with a fiery temper was well and truly fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, it's greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I love writing Gerard's character and would love some feedback on the direction I've taken him in.


	3. Unpredictable

Frank strolled into the dingy cafeteria and read today's menu. He had learned that prison was not suitable for vegetarians. Who the fuck serves ham, mashed potatoes and green beans together anyway? He made a mental note to make a complaint about the shitty food at the next group therapy meeting. Frank then gazed around the cafeteria, it's yellow walls drowning the appetite of the prisoners, the tables sticky with chewing gum that had been dealt like drugs. It reminded Frank of his high school and all the shitty meals he put up with in there. Still, he would do anything right now to be back in the walls of Catholic school.

Frank scanned the hall for his friends and sighed when he realised they weren't there yet. He let his mind wander to Way. He was still bewildered about the red haired boy. He was like nothing Frank had ever seen. What kind of effeminate man flaunted his sexuality then threatened to break the fingers off of anyone that touched him? What kind of effeminate man had the guts to threaten someone much bigger and stronger than himself?

He wondered what had happened to the boy to make him so damn cocky. 

Frank analysed the crowd of men until his eyes locked onto the face of Way's. He was stood in the dinner queue, standing smaller than most of the other men there. Frank would guess that anyone of Way's size- skin and bone- would be weak but he held his chin high, looking down his flicked nose at anyone who tried to speak to him. Frank would have thought it peculiar that he was so drawn to the man, considering how reckless his behaviour was and how much Frank just wanted to stay out of trouble, but slowly looking around Frank realised that the whole damn prison was drawn to him. He was like a light amongst flies, attracting attention but burning anyone with insults who got too close.

Frank was awoken from his daze when he felt a hand tug lightly at his hair. He let out a yelp and turned around to smack whoever thought they could mess with Frank Iero. Although he wanted to stay out of trouble, Frank didn't do it out of fear of the other inmates, it was out of fear of an extension of his time inside. So if someone did mess with him-he would retaliate. He turned around to face whatever piece of shit had touched him when the person let out a chuckle and Frank instantly relaxed.

"For fuck sake, Ray!", he shoved his curly-headed friend, who was doubling over and breathing heavily to control his laughing.  
"Your face!", Ray laughed and pointed at Frank's now blushing cheeks. He acknowledged Frank's pissed off features and swung an arm around his neck.  
"I'm sorry dude! It was just a joke, let's go get lunch", Ray goofily smile. Frank could never stay mad at Ray for too long- he was the only thing keeping him sane in this house of misfits. Even the time he "accidentally" used Frank's toothbrush to unblock a sink, Frank had forgiven him. He was really all Frank had in this hell and all he needed. He had welcomed Frank in when he was young and alone and confused, and for that Frank would be eternally grateful. Ray's buoyant and infectious energy gave him a glow of childlike innocence, yet his wisdom had Frank believing he had lived for a thousand years. His curly brown afro was always bouncing around amongst the crowd of inmates, making him stand out against the other thugs. Ray always looked out for him, like the big brother Frank had never gotten. All of the other prisoners seemed to not mind Ray either, but that's probably because he was one of the assistant mentors in therapy sessions that all inmates compulsorily had to attend. He was the assigned shoulder to cry on by the prison due to his understanding nature, so if a prisoner felt their thoughts were too indecent to tell a prison official, they could always talk to Ray. Frank was thankful for that, another way for himself to stay out of trouble.

Ray escorted Frank to the queue and returned a few hellos to fellow inmates before turning to Frank.  
"So what about that new kid?", Ray whispered, turning round to gaze at the back of Way's head to make sure he couldn't hear him.  
"Kid?", Frank gossiped, bending into Ray to avoid his conversation being overheard.  
"He's fucking thirty!", Frank said his eyes growing wide.  
"Thirty?", Ray scoffed, putting his hand on his hip patronisingly. "And where did you hear that?"  
"He said it himself!", Frank whispered.  
"And you believe that?", Ray asked. He had a way of making you analyse things you've never considered. Frank couldn't think of a reason Way would lie about his age but felt foolish under Ray's glance. Ray could see into people, unlike Frank. When he accepted Way was thirty, Ray psychoanalysed _why_ he said he was thirty.

"I suppose he looks kinda boyish", Frank murmured.  
"He can't be older than us", Ray turned around and stared at the back of Way's head.  
"I wonder what he's in for", Frank said curiously but Ray didn't reply, his eyebrows were knitted together in confusion.  
"Ray", Frank nudged his unresponsive friend. When he didn't answer he poked his side gently. "Ray!" Ray snapped out of his haze and looked at Frank before turning back to Way.  
"I'm sorry", Ray said with a weak smile and sympathetic eyes. "I'm just worried about that kid, that's all".

Frank watched the boy approach the kitchen where he was served a slump of mashed potatoes, green beans and cardboard ham. Way's face was pulled into a grimace and he muttered a hesitant "thank you" before moving to find a seat.

Just as Way was moving through the cafeteria, his hips swaying in an elegant manner, one of the larger inmates from Clarkson's group of perverts, Victor, the 'wall of muscle', powered up to Way and looked him up and down disgustedly before slapping the navy tray out of the boy's hands. The creamy mess splattered all over the kicked up floor as the noise of the tray echoed throughout the room. The display had attracted the attention of the full nosey cafeteria and everyone turned to watch how the situation would play out.

Way's hands were still raised, in the position he had been holding his tray when the man etched closer to his face.

"Learn some respect, bitch", he hissed, obviously referring to the antics that had occurred in Clarkson and Way's cell only ten minutes previous. The man then brought his face intimately close to Way's, so close he could feel his stale breath against his lips. Way screwed his nose up and his face twitched slightly, he was still frozen to the spot.

"Or we'll put those little gay hands and that nasty mouth to good use". Way's eyes looked to the floor, defeatedly.  
"Sorry", the boy whispered pathetically, rubbing his eyes. Shit. Was he... _crying_? Frank felt his heart pang.

"Thought so", the man laughed then snorted before groggily spitting on the red-head's new white shoes. Way's breath hitched and he let out a light sob. The bulky man turned to walk away as Way shamefully knelt to clean up his food. Frank watched as he picked up his tray, his eyes hazy. Frank felt sorry for the boy, the utter humiliation must have hit him hard. Frank had rarely ever been in a position like that, and he presumed that this was how the rest of the boy's incarceration would pan out. But Frank had to snap out of it, getting invested in the crying boy would drive Frank into trouble-which he didn't need and plus, it wasn't as if Frank was the sensitive sort- it was just slightly upsetting to see the boy so weak, when he had been so defiant only a little while before.

"Poor kid", Ray whispered to Frank, with an empathetic smile.  
"Yeah", Frank hummed as he looked back to the boy. Way looked to his plate on the floor in front of him, sitting very still. A cunning light sparking in his defeated eyes. That can't be right, Frank thought. Was he... _faking_ it?

Frank watched intently as a devious smile played on the boys lips before he quietly prised his plate with his feminine hands and stood. His eyes burned into the back of the man who had mocked him's head. Way then grinned deviously as he calmly stalked up to the man. Victor was in an indepth story as everyone at his table glanced at Way suspiciously. The boy's eyes bulged psychotically as he raised his hand into the air before smashing the plate onto the bald man's head. The man then crashed immediately, face first, into his plate of mash, unconscience.

Frank gulped in a breath, the suspense in the room setting everyone on edge.

The boy giggled lightly, a noise that Frank didn't even know a boy could make.

"Oops", the pixie boy whispered, raising his hands to his lips in mock shock.  
"It slipped straight outta my little", he bit his lip.  
"Gay", he sarcastically furrowed his eyebrows.  
"Hands", a mockingly guilty smile grew on his lips.

"What a little dick!", one of the group shouted, standing up from the table, his chair screeching across the floor. Way looked over his shoulders and back to the man, fake confusion etching across his face.  
"Who're you talking 'bout?", he pointed to himself, his wrist moving daintily.  
"Me?", he giggled, before leaning onto the table, sticking his ass in the air provocatively. Frank would have found it attractive if he wasn't so fucking nervous. Way let his finger run across the unconscious man's face, collecting mashed potato onto his finger before bring it to his soft lips and sucking it seductively, dragging the finger in and out of his puckered mouth before removing it, emitting a pop.  
"I'll let y'all in on a secret", he cupped his mouth towards the group of men but kept his voice loud.  
"My dick's pretty big actually", he winked alluringly and smiled with one side of his mouth. Immediately, one of the men gripped Way's fiery mess of hair and thumped his face off of the table.

"Fucker", the guy sneered, as he continually brought the boy's delicate features onto the hard plastic. Howls erupted amongst the wolves and packs moved towards the table to watch the spectacle.

Frank and Ray stood up quickly, Ray signalling to one of the useless guards that there is a fucking _emergency_ going on in here. The guard sauntered over and Frank rolled his eyes because they were so fucking _dozy_. The young guard noticed the crowd, concern in his face as he radio-called for help. Soon half-a-dozen policemen armed with batons stormed in, thwacking their way through the crowd to get to the scene.

Frank knelt up on the table to see that _fuck_ the boy's beautiful face was still getting destroyed, much to the pleasure of the onlookers.

Once the guards reached the centre of the scene, they pulled the bear like man from Way and yanked his arms behind his back, cuffing him as the guy spat insults at the boy.  
"Fucking whore!", he sneered, his voice filled with judgement and disgust. Way raised his head to the insult and oh _fuck_ it was a site.

His nose was crooked to the side. His face was littered with angry jagged cuts from the remains of the smashed plate. Blood oozed out of every opening, his nose, mouth, scars, eyes. Pints and pints of blood ran down his face, over his chiseled cheekbones and jaw and collected at his chin before dripping off in massive dollops. The scene was horrific-like something gory out of the horrors Frank watched as a kid- but the most terrifying thing of all was the manic _smile_ on the boy's lips, and the psychotic laugh that emitted from the back of his throat. Frank was fucking petrified.

The beautiful pixie boy was a fucking _psycho_.

One of the policemen turned to Way, their face full of shock at the pool of blood gathering on the floor beneath him.  
"Are you alright?", he said hesitantly, fully aware that Way looked deranged. Way furiously nodded his head before letting his gaze travel from the floor to the face of the man who had beaten him. The only word Frank could use to describe Way's gaze was pure and utter _venom._

His eyes were still and staring, like those of an animal stalking it's prey. His lips still turned into a smile. His hair standing at all angles. His face splattered with blood.

"Got a problem fuckface?", the man growled, clearly agitated by Way's expression. Way just giggled lightly in that terrifyingly high pitched tone that made Frank's skin crawl.   
"Big mistake, baby. Real big mistake", Way said happily, pushing off of the table. The larger man stared at Way, his eyes wide. Was that...fear?  
"Because you really, really, really don't wanna get on the wrong side of me cause you see I'm loopy", Way said as he stalked up to his attacker and brought his face a mere inch away. His eyes bore into the man's as his blood dripped onto his shoes.  
"And loopy means pretty fucking unpredictable".

And right now, staring at the boy, his scarlet blood matching his static hair, his eyes escaping from their sockets and his lips curled into a smile, Frank didn't doubt it. Not for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone who has supported my fic so far, it really means a lot! All of your comments and advice are really motivating me to update. I'm concerned, however, that this chapter didn't quite live up to the previous, I'd like to know your view on it, so I know if I need to change direction. Negative or positive opinions are welcome!


	4. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prison fic clique on tumblr, you make my day!

Frank tossed and turned in his bunk as he thought of the day's events.

This morning he had woken up, just another prisoner in another cell, in another jail, in another part of the world, never thinking too much, because there was nothing to think about. Tonight he went to bed just another prisoner in another cell, in another jail, in another part of the world, but he finally had something worth thinking about.

It reminded Frank of his early days in prison. He sometimes found his mind wandering, back to the old days where it was new and terrifying and foreign. Sometimes, so far gone his mind wanders back to _him_ , especially tonight. And it makes Frank feel sick. He can see _him_ in the eyes of the red haired boy's. Not their colour, or their shape, or their beauty-but their fire.

Tonight Frank thought about something he hadn't thought about in years. Something he vowed to lock away because it's intoxication was enough to drown his thoughts.

Frank never let himself think about the past for too long.

He pulled his rough blanket up around his chin, rolling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks and stains and chips and discolouration. The harsh snore of Magsie beneath him, joining the choir of the other men in the prison.

Frank never understood why the pixie boy had interested him so much. Why his actions and words attracted him like a lighthouse in a sea storm, but as he thought on his memories, he realised why. The red-head was just so like _him_. It scared Frank. He couldn't face what happened before again. He could never emotionally invest in an unpredictable person again. So he decided he could never care for Way. He had to stay away from him. He was just thankful he didn't have to hear the boy get attacked tonight as he was spending a night in the infirmary.

Frank breathed out a shaky breath. He had to relax. He began to massage his head lightly with the tips of his fingers, for so long he ran out of thoughts. And went to sleep happy, that he could forget again.

* * *

Frank woke the next day to the sound of the morning bell ringing. He yawned and cracked his knuckles harshly before twisting his back.

"Fuck", he groaned as he allowed his bones to click back into place. "Morning boy-o", Magsie from below croaked.

"Morning sir", Frank replied, glancing at the man who was reading. Magsie soon erupted coughing, a common affair with the old man.

Jonathan Magnuson had been Frank's room mate since he arrived four years ago. Creeping onto the old age of seventy, Magsie had throat cancer and was on his way out- but he was still one of Frank's favourites. He kept himself to himself, bothered no one. He was originally feared by inmates after murdering seven men on a drunken spree back in '78 over an animal rights protest but basically got his shit together when he realised he was in here for life. He was one of the few who made a life for himself in prison, Frank greatly admired that. Magsie stayed quiet while reading enough to fill a library, smoking enough tobacco to turn a throat cancerous and talking about animals enough to kill the listener. God, he could  _talk_ about animals. Did you know there are twenty types of armadillo? Frank now did. Did you know 19 of these breeds originate from Latin America? Frank also did. The prison guards also loved Magsie. Since he'd been in the cells for years and he was older, he was well respected.

Magsie's good behaviour and example had earned him a pet. A fucking pet. A pet cat called Orange. When Frank knew the cat was infact not orange but _brown_. The fucking _brown_ cat was called _Orange_.

The cat sort of gave Frank the creeps, it would lace around his ankles at night in his sleep and sometimes he would be woken with light scratches on his face. He feared the day he would wake up with no eyes because of the goddamn cat.

That would truly suck because there finally was something worth looking at in the prison.

Frank had decided that he would keep his distance from Way, he could watch from afar. He could appreciate the boys beautiful structure and fiery hair and perk ass but he could never look into his eyes. He could never see his soul. He would just became another prison bitch and Frank wouldn't care. Frank shouldn't care. Frank hoped he didn't.

Breakfast was the best meal of the day. Everything was vegetarian friendly so Frank could eat to his hearts content. It was basically an all-you-can-eat buffet, so he filled up on Walmart own brand cereal and stale toast.

He began to stroll into the cafeteria however immediately stopped, puzzled at the door. Something wasn't right. The room was deathly silent- no crunch of cereal, no tear of bread- nothing. There was a wallowing tension, sitting on his shoulders, reflecting in the eyes of every man there. Most men looked intrigued, some uncomfortable. What the fuck was going on?

Frank quietly turned the corner into the room. He analysed the crowd, hoping, praying that please God may this be nothing to do with _exactly_ who he thought it was to do with.

Of course, Frank was right.

The stupid fucking _idiot_ pixie man was sitting, alone, on the exact seat, of the exact table where he shattered the plate. He was eating cereal while reading a book, acting as if the whole fucking room wasn't staring at him. That was _their_ table. And he couldn't just sit on it.

The group of men who usually sat there, were standing around ten feet away. Just watching the boy, stilly. Their faces were in cocky smiles, they were shaking their heads, but we're still completely silent. The boy's hair hung over his eyes, no one could see his face. The only noise was his obnoxiously loud chewing and turning of pages.

One of the men, slowly, intimidatingly strolled up to the boy and sat down across from him. Frank's bones were quaking. He was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He shouldn't be so scared for this idiot! He had to snap the hell out of it.

The man, Davis- a six foot, obese, hairless sweaty vermin- stretched his hand across the table and snatched the book out of Way's hands, he then flung it across the room, where it landed sprawled across the floor.

"What the fuck", the man brought his face into the red head's. His head shone with drops of sweat.

"Do you think your doing, boy?". Way raised his eyes then. He looked like an old doll, still beautiful but patched up everywhere with stitches and scuffs. There was no blood anymore, but his scars still appeared congealed and nasty. His eyes were horrifically bruised, a white cast sat on the bridge of his nose. His lips were puffy and if it was a different situation, Frank would have said they looked so damn kissable.

"I was reading", Way pouted and then glanced to his hands were his book once sat.

"But you seem to have thrown my book away", he raised his eyebrow curiously, that must have been painful on his fucked up face, Frank thought.

"That's right I 'threw your book away'",the man impersonated Way's effeminate tone.

"Get the fuck up", the man spat, enunciating his words in Way's face. Way giggled then.

Frank swore he would hear that fucked up laugh in his sleep.

The boy then took a spoonful of his cereal and chewed loudly, milk smearing over his lips, before clasping his hands under his chin. He licked his lips clean and smiled sarcastically at the man.

"Make me", he drawled. The man was taken aback. He spluttered a laugh, his belly jiggling.

"Say that again, boy", Davis bellowed, a hoot erupted in the cafeteria.

"I said fucking _make_ me", Way spat back, glaring at the man across from him, his eyes cunning.

Immediately, Davis' thick hand shot across the table, his fingers tangled in Way's fiery hair. The boy let out a shriek as the huge man then yanked him across the table, the veins in his arms and neck pulsing with anger.

"Stupid fucking fairy", Davis hissed as Way yelled. The boy's face was contorted in pain as his hair was near torn from his head. Frank hissed in sympathy. After dragging the boy's slumped body over the table, like a rag doll, Davis carelessly threw Way to the floor, spitting on the hair that sat disheveled from it's assault. Laughter filled the air as concern filled Frank's heart. But he laughed along a little too because the guy was fucking _asking_ for it.

Way stared up at Davis from under his hair, his scarlet cheeks matching his bloodshot eyes and alarming hair. The boy looked furious. Davis and the rest of his cronies sauntered to the table and sat, bellowing laughter. Davis raised his arms and cracked his knuckles loudly, revealing drippy sweat patches. Way jumper to his feet. His eyebrows knitted into pure hatred. He then turned on his heel and stormed out of the cafeteria, his ass swaying due to the ferocity of his hips with a chorus of amusement following him.

"That boy will be dead by tomorrow", an inmate hollered. Many hummed their agreements.

"Dead on", one laughed back.

Once breakfast was done, it was back to the cells for half an hour before recreation. The heard of men shuffled back to their cells. Frank lifted back his matress, revealing his diary. It's pages were brown, the lining in it tied together with thick string. He'd constructed it during an art class when the teacher wasn't looking. He smiled down at the old friend, it's old pages peeling. it had been a while since he wrote. Maybe he would fill it up to date. He stuck his hand in his matress to pull out his pencil. 

Suddenly a shriek echoed throughout the prison. Frank jerked up and sprang from his cell. The scream was loud. It was agony. It was pain. It was followed by a manic laughter. It sounded like _revenge_.

Half of the prison block hurried towards the noise, their footsteps clanking on the hard floor. However, they stopped. Dead in their tracks as a stream of blood flowed out of Davis's cell. The scream erupted into a harsh crackle, a gasp for breath.

Intrigued prison mates moved closer to the cell.The laughter erupted again. The laughter that could only be _Way's_. It was a light giggle, a childish laugh, one like a little girl's Frank thought.

Along with a crowd of inmates he rounded the corner and gasped at the site. Blood oozed out of Davis' arm. A rapid stream, flowing, pulping onto Way's hands that had impaled a sharpened toothbrush into a cross tattoo. Davis was frozen, too afraid to move incase the psychopath pressed the wound further.

No one dared to enter the cell.

"You were right", Way sniggered, jiggling the toothbrush in the man's arm. Davis cried out, grabbing onto the wall. The red-head's eyes glazed over, he stared into space, his lips curling into a smile.

"I am a fucking fairy".

Fuck. Where was this going? Frank thought. Defiant to not get involved, he turned to walk away but could not battle through the crowd. He was stuck. With a front row viewing of whatever torture technique the freaky fucking fairy had in store.

Frank gulped back his nervousness, and turned his aura into steel. You can't wimp away from violence. You gotta suck it up and deal with it to stay a butcher and not a bitch. All Frank wanted was to not be a bitch.

He gazed to Way's face, which was contorted into a delightful happiness, sick and twisted given the current situation. The boy leaned into the older man, spilling his warm breath into his ear heavily.

"Legend has it that God ruled the heavens and the earth", Way started, he leaned on his arm, pushing the toothbrush in further. Davis howled, his sweat was now a pool on his shirt.

"His alliances and angels bowed down to him, praised him. They sung him songs of gratification and sang of his glory and power and might. However one angel, Lucifer, once questioned, Why must we obey a God simply for being bigger than us? Why must we obey a being for being stronger than us?", Way added drama, changing his voice to play the parts of Lucifer, turning the devil's voice into one of beauty, purity and innocence. Frank gazed at the other cell mates who were completely compelled by Way before looking back.

"During a feast one night, Lucifer brought this question to God. He asked 'Almighty one, why is it we praise you for simply being you, when we slave away for you, and are given nothing in return'", Way furrowed his brow and leant in further as if he was reaching the climax of his fairytale. He captured the cell mates and they leaned in too. Now, in this moment, he was a puppet master, and they his dolls.

"God got very angry at little Lucifer and he told him that there is only one God and he mustn't dare question his authority. However Lucifer's questions started a rising amongst the Angels. Why must they praise and worship a being for simply being authoritive. they looked to lucifer for leadership. They wanted equality of a sort. A democracy rather than a dictatorship, if you will", Way gestured with his hand, flicking his wrists, pushing the sharp end.

"Lucifer raised a party and brought them before God. Lucifer asked again. 'Almighty one, why is it we praise you for simply being you, when we slave away for you, and are given nothing in return'. God stared down at the Angels who challenged him. And a fight erupted in the heavens. Angels fought Saints. Brothers fought sisters", he rushed out the portion in one breath before immediately slowed his speaking, wetting his lips gently with his tongue.

"Until one day, God overpowered the small army of Lucifer's and threw them to hell. As the Angels fell, they transformed. Their wings became wired instead on feathery. Their chubby cherub cheeks became sharp and pointy. The newly fallen angels were furious that they were dropped from heaven- they promised to avenge theirself. The newly fallen angels renamed themselves as fairies. They can fly like angels, they can sing like angels, they can dance like angels but there's one thing the angels can't do that the faries can- the faries can sin unlike angels", and with that Way yanked the tooth brush from Davis, who fell to the floor, gasping.

Way stared at the object, his eyes locked on to the congealed blood and grease and broken skin over the plastic cheap blue brush. He smiled , plotting, then gently, ever _so gently_ , stuck out his red tongue. He then brought it to the toothbrush. Frank gagged.

The boy raised his tongue, licking the dollops of scarlet blood from the object. His eyelids drooping shut, his face blissed out- orgasm style. He groaned as his tounge ran over the brush before reaching the very end of the blade. And Frank was a sick fucking fuck because the action had went straight to his cock. A beautiful boy was stood, in a fucking orange overall sucking on a blood covered toothbrush. How could that not be hot? Ways's insanity had already taken it's toll on him.

The boy then pulled off of the brush, clutching it harshly in his hand before glancing at the other inmates.

"Grass me up and this goes up your asshole", Way snapped with an evil smile before storming out of the cell and barging through the crowd, those ever swinging hips swaying.

And Frank knew, Frank fucking _knew_ , that the prisoners wouldn't say a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for the wait, I had some personal issues. I hope this chapter made up for the month I left you all hanging! Your comments and criticism still mean everything!


	5. Cigarettes

The crowd watched Way saunter away and Frank rushed to his cell, bewildered and confused. He kicked off his scuffed trainers and climbed into the clanging metal bed, fiddling with his diary in his fingers, tempted to write. However there was too much on his mind. There was a sick worry in his throat, as if he'd licked the knife himself. He could taste the metallic blood and he could feel the strong guilt eating up his conscious. Why did he find that morbid act attractive? His head said no but his dick most _definitely_ said yes.

He thought of his grandma to kill his bone.

It wasn't the fact that he found it hot, Frank was fair into a few kinks, it was more due to the fact it was real. Yes-bloody porn was really fucking hot- but it was just fake. The blood thay poured down the screen was just red dye. It was a fantasy and Way was a reality. Way would probably kill a person then fuck a guy in his blood. and Frank was fucking throbbing at the thought.

The way that the boy looked, with blood on his parted lips, obscene and hideous- but so so _beautiful_. The shocking red making his skin look a shade paler, the fucking groaning setting Frank's guts on fire. The blood matching his scratched up face, contrasting next to his purpled eyes, his lips full but his toungue thin, his jaw sharp and his skin soft, his..

"Frank". Frank snapped out of his haze, shaking his head furiously and meeting the eyes of Ray who stood in the door. Ray pulled his fingers through his hair awkwardly and cleared his throat.

"Dude, we have.. uh, y'know recreation in five so we should probably head over around, um, now-ish", he stuttered out, staring at the wall. Frank gathered up his diary and placed it under his bed.

"But, uh, sort yourself out first", Ray motioned to Frank's crouch causing the latter to blush profusely as he covered his boner with his hands.

"Fuck off, Ray", Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Maybe you can get that piece of ass to sort it out for you", Sam's head rounded the corner of the cell.

"Fuck off, Sam!", Frank huffed. "This is private".

Sam laughed at Frank's attitude before leaning in and whispering.

"It's most definitely not private. That guy has got everyone tossing the salad right now, if you know what I mean?", Sam wiggled his eyebrows and giggled. Frank glared at Sam, his weasel-face and long brown greasy hair.

"Lovely", Ray sighed. Sam punched Ray gently in the arm.

"I'm only having you on, big dude", Sam sniggered, then motioned to Ray while looking at Frank.

"Sensitive one", he laughed and Frank rolled his eyes again.

"Fucking hell, let's go for rec", he huffed, dragging his body from his bed. The three men shuffled outside, Frank burying his hands in his coat as the ice cold air nipped at his fingers like piranhas.

"It's goddamn cold out here", Sam shivered, blowing hot air into his hands.

"Says the man who beat a guy to death over cold poultry. Genius", Frank amused, shaking his head rediculously.

"It was one time", Sam drew out frustratedly.

"Besides with the lethal combination you were selling, you probably killed far more than me!", Sam grinned sharply.

Frank gulped back the ball of guilt in his throat, and raised his eyebrow suggesting 'fair play'.

"You two", Ray exhaled, jogging on the spot gently to warm himself up. Frank buried into his pockets, pulling out a packet of cigarettes.

"Dude! Where the fuck did you get them?", Sam asked, his voice high pitched, his hand reaching in to snatch the packet from Frank. Frank pulled open the pack and placed a cigarette between his teeth, before burying further into is pocket and finding a lighter. He lit the stick on fire before puffing out a smokey breath. Fucking relief.

"I have my ways", Frank grinned over his cigarette, before offering one to the other men.

"Frank", Ray drawled out frustratedly. "Number one, it's now illegal to smoke in prison. Number two, it's really bad for you".

"Fucking cupcakes are really bad for you. Either take one Ray or quit your huffing", Frank ratted out, pushing the packet into Ray's face. Ray just turned his nose up.

"Fine", Frank mumbled over the cigarette in his mouth, before going to place the box back in his pocket. All of a sudden, he felt a gentle tap on his back. Fuck, Frank thought, hoping it wasn't a prison warden coming to pinch his cigarettes. But the tap didn't feel accusing or angry, it just felt curious. Frank slowly turned around, and breathed a sigh of both relief and fear as his eyes met the hazel ones of of-fucking-course Way.

The boy smiled happily, too happily for someone who had just stabbed a guy.

"Hey", he giggled. He spoke out of one side of his mouth, Frank noticed, typical smoker.

"Can I borrow one of your cigarettes?", he asked lightly, Frank considered telling the boy to fuck off and find his own but his eyes were so full and doe-like, as big and hearty as a deers. He just looked so goddamn innocent.

Frank reluctantly nodded before reaching into his pocket and grabbing for his cigarettes but Way had other ideas, he reached his thin feminine fingers towards Frank's lips before gently prising the cigarette from between Frank's teeth, he then brought it up to his own lips and sucked on it, his eyes closed and movements hazy. His cheekbones enunciated by the November light. He took in a deep breath, before letting a smoky one go, all over Frank's face. But he honestly couldn't care less because it was a stunning sight.

"Thanks", Way said, one corner of his mouth curling into a smile.His eyes slowly opened and he looked up at Frank hazily from under his eyelashes.

"Nice tat", he indicated towards Frank's scorpion tattoo on his neck. Frank just nodded again, until Way strolled away on his own, turning round once to look back at Frank.

"Fucking hell", Sam gasped out once the boy had left.

"He's a woman. He's actually a woman", Sam said running his hands through his greasy hair, shaking his head incredolously.

"Fuck up Sam", Frank muttered back, getting out a new cigarette.

 

 

* * *

 

The alarm called to end recreation. Frank and Sam buried their cigarette butts in the wet grass before heading inside with the rest of the inmates. Frank rolled his eyes when he remembered it was time for group therapy, but still turned up to the little confined room, with the sickeningly green walls and faded chewing-gum ridden blue carpet.

Lisa, the psychiatrist-who could possibly get the award for being the shittiest fucking mental health doctor in the whole world- arrived to unlock the door. She was rail thin, her massive bug eyes emphasised by huge red glasses that sat too far off the bridge of her nose. She gave overly-fake smiles to the prisoners as nine out of the ten chairs were filled. She glared at her watch as the two prison guards entered.

"Where's the new guy?", Lisa called out, motioning to the empty chair next to Frank. He gulped back. No no no no no-. The red haired boy appeared through the entrance of the door. Fuck. He looked around slowly, before spotting the chair next to Frank and strolling towards it, taking a seat. Frank tried to not peak at the boy from the corner of his eye.

"Hello everybody, and welcome back to group therapy", Lisa smile graciously, her lip curling above her gum, almost fake Frank would say before turning to Way. He was facing downwards, his eyes cast on the fading blue carpet. He was biting his nails, every few moments holding them out to see if they looked okay. His rough locks hanging over his lazy eyes.

"We've got a new member of the group today!", Lisa said cheerily. Her face far too artificially delighted. God she could be fucking annoying. "And you know what that means".

A relatable sigh filled the room along with some frustrated groaning.

"That's right, it's time for you to introduce yourselves to the newbie", she giggled before reaching over an inmates and poking Way in the side, he responded by giving her a look of pure disgust from under his hair.

"Ray!", she called. "You start. Stand up and say a name and a fact about yourself". Ray stood up, obviously thrilled he had been chosen-not to forget the fact he was completely and obviously in love with Lisa- and began the initiation.

"My name's Ray", He smiled, clasping his hands together. He always pulled that same sickly sweet goddamn voice when he was around her. "And I play the guitar".

Lisa immediately began clapping, her blonde curly locks bouncing along with her. Frank didn't know why they hired a fucking kindergarten school kid to take a bunch of psychopathic killers for therapy, but they did.

"Well done Ray! It always takes guts to go first". Ray blushed, sitting down.

"Frank!", she turned towards him as he attempted to bury himself in his chair. "Yoooou're next!"

Frank wondered momentarily why the fuck the woman-child spoke to him like he was even younger than she was. Frank sighed, before unfolding his arms and pushing himself to his feet.

"M'names Frank. I play guitar", he mumbled before sitting back down. The clapping erupted again, only Lisa and Ray actually taking part.

"That takes us to this little one here!", Lisa said enthusiastically, angling herself towards Way. Way stared back at her through his hair, then let his eyes hover around the room, thoughtfully. He huffed out a breath, which caused his hair to blow from his face like curtains in the wind. He let his head gently fall back onto the chair before gripping the sides of it harshly with white fingers and then pulled himself to his feet, so messy yet graceful, and bit his lip before muttering out.

"My names Way".

"Yes love", Lisa laughed. Way's eyes physically rolled to the back of his head at the pet name.

"But we're on first name basis in this secret circle. Honesty is policy", she chimed. Way folded his arms, his stance changing, his hip jutted out, he looked ready for an argument.

"My names Gerard", he spoke out the side of his mouth. So that was his name, Frank thought. He looked at the boy. Most of his red hair was tucked behind his ears, annunciating his cheekbones, while one strand hung over his face deviously. His facial expression was completely neutral, his gaze unaltered to the floor. Yeah, Frank thought, he looked like a Gerard.

"And I'm going to burn this shithole to the ground", Gerard said, his voice unwavering in it's thick New Jersey accent before returning to his seat. Frank just stared at him, wondering if he had heard him right. Did he just say he was planning to set the prison on _fire_?

"Sorry", Lisa said, her voice present with the same confusion as Frank's mind.

"What did you say?", she asked, the smile gone, replaced with the real Lisa. Gerard just appeared relaxed and uncaring.

"Ashes to Ashes", Gerard muttered, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Dust to dust".

"I don't understand what you mean", Lisa said, her eyebrows knitting together as she stood up and marched infront of Way. He scoffed.

"Thought she was supposed to be smart", Gerard fake-whispered, covering his mouth towards Frank. Gerard's breath hit his neck. He felt a shiver run to his toes.

"I am smart. I'm a psychiatrist-"

"I'm a psycopath", Way smiled, letting his eyes meet Lisa's.

"Gerard, you're not, you clearly passed your psyche evaluation", Lisa snapped back.

"You clearly passed your psychiatry exam when you weren't supposed to. It's luck. It's markers, it's how you're feeling that day", Gerard said said bouncing his head maniacally from side to side with every point he made, agitation developing in his voice.

"Excuse me? I am a doctor of NYU, you shouldn't speak to me that way. I have a PHD."

"Yeah well so did Harold Shipman", Gerard laughed back.

"Who's Harold Shipman?", Lisa blurted back, a few prisoners laughed. God, Frank rubbed his temples. Here we _fucking_ go.

"Am I missing something here?", she stamped her foot.

"Jesus Christ", Gerard giggled, flashing a row of tiny teeth before snapping his mouth shut.

"A psychiatrist who doesn't know our Harold. He's Dr. death, by the way, who killed his patients back in 90's", Gerard explained condescendingly.

"How dare you compare me to a murderer. I'm the only innocent person in this goddamn room", Lisa shouted back, she was red faced now, flushing and furious.

"I think the two wardens are pretty innocent too", Gerard indicated to the two officers standing in the room.

"Oh and constable Davidson in the locker, who you were fucking before we came in", Way said calmly, some of the inmates began jeering Gerard on. Lisa began stuttering over her words. Making a bigger fool of her already fucking foolish self, Frank thought.

"How? Why?-"

"There's cum on your shirt", Gerard smiled back simply.

"Who the fuck do you think you are you stupid lousy little boy?", Lisa shrieked, moving towards the annoying little asshole.

"I'm a fucking psychiatrist! You're in here for life!", she turned to the guards. "Get him out of my sight!"

Way stood on his own accord, standing at the same height as Lisa and narrowly looking into her dull blue eyes.

"Do you know why I know you're a shitty doctor?", he asked, jerking his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

"Beause proper doctors do their job; analyse the patient. You defend your pride. That was a test, by the way. I'm not going to burn this place down. I didn't bring any matches. I was just proving that this shitty doctor clearly cares more for her shitty reputation than the threat of preponed death", he shrugged.

"Oh and next time Davidson", Way started, putting his hand on his hip, leaving his mouth open slightly, letting his lips look so perfect for fucking. "Come to me. I'm tighter".

Frank physically covered his mouth as Way stormed out, his eyes growing wide. All of the inmates were laughing.

"Get the fuck out!", Lisa screamed, the pressure overcoming her. "All of you!"

The prisoners all ran out, hooting after Gerard. Frank and Ray looked at each other, agreeing with their eyes that the boy was fucking _insane_. They started after the crowd, Frank to see how things played out, Ray to make sure the boy didn't cause anymore shit.

Frank heard a gently thump, followed by a humph and a laugh. They rounded the corner to see Gerard's back against the wall, and taller bulkier inmate with his hands against his chest, pushing him back. To be completely honest, Frank expected this. Way couldn't parade around like a walking sex symbol, it was fucking unnatural, at some point or another someone was gonna want something. And at some point or another someone was gonna take it- regardless of what Gerard wanted.

"You seemed really into fucking", the man breathed into Gerard's neck, the boy turned his face away, his shoulders jerking trying to escape the tight hold. Frank looked on sadly.

"Get the fuck off of me", Way attempted sternly, but it grew into a gasp as the man began to toy with his nipples through his shirt.

"Wanna be my bitch?", the man muttered into Way's ear, the group of inmates looked aroused, Ray and Frank quaked.

"You're so feisty. I know you wanna. I'll keep you safe. Come on, baby. Be my bitch", he drawled, pinching his nipple while the other hand ghosted over Way's neck.

"Oh _wow_ ", Way breathed, putting his head back against the wall, allowing the man to reach around his throat. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his veins thick in his neck from his previous argument, his Adam's apple bobbing when he spoke.

"I'm flattered! Me? Your prison bitch?", Gerard's tone began to grow sarcastic as he continued. 

"Really? What kinda shit are you into? Are you into mouth fucking?", he gasped, staring back into the larger man's eyes seductively.

"Bare backing? Spanking? What?", he attempted to shrug under the man's hold, the man only nodded back, his mouth getting dangerously close to Way's. Frank wondered whether he should intervene.

"I really hope your into me tearing your dick off and making you choke on it", Way said seductively and the man pulled back slightly, off of Gerard's nipples, obviously never picking up on his sarcastic tone.

"Or maybe getting one of those cheese graters from the kitchen and watching you grind on that?", Gerard bit his lip and the man stepped back, his hands raised in defence.

"What honey?", Gerard stepped forward, the man took a step back. Way raised a finger and brought it too the man's face in a caressing grip. He looked so fucking powerful even though he was the smallest man in the corridor. His presence was captivating and it had Frank so intrigued. The way his hair fell behind his ears and his burning hazel eyes were always attached to something, always menacing.

"Too much for ya?", Gerard said in a sultry but disappointed tone, lowering his hand and patting the man's crotch twice, before turning on his heel and strutting off without turning back. The men awkwardly stood, hoping to see more of a show.

"S'fine", the man muttered to the other inmates, he looked a little yellow and traumatised, Frank thought. The man turned away but Frank and Ray remained where they stood.

The boy wasn't just the hottest thing Frank had ever seen, he was coming close to one of the smartest too.

"So", Ray hummed.

"Yeah", Frank replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I seen some art some of you guys have done and I nearly cried, seriously it means so much too me! As always, your comments and criticism are everything.
> 
> Follow me on twitter @jonny_monts


	6. Crayons

"I just don't get it", Sam puffed out a cigarette breath, to which Ray fake-coughed to show his disappointment in the two for breaking the prison laws, and inevitably their lungs.

"I don't understand", he pulled in another draw, his greasy forehead contorted and confused.

"What's not to understand?", Frank ran a distressed hand through his hair. He knew it was obvious he was trying to cover up his overwhelming awe of the Gerard Way, he believed a straight face and nonchalance would do they trick, not so much.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Frank? Do I need to revise the last hour to you? Really?", Frank didn't respond to Sam, which was all the incentive the greasy haired stick insect needed.

"Okay. That little bitch managed to not only absolutely burn the shit outta our psychiatrist, and put together that she was fucking Davidson, but is now sitting there with a fucking sketchbook and crayons", Sam threw his hands in the air disbelieving, before burning his eyes off Way's back. The boy was sitting on a picnic bench, hunched over a small brown leather sketchbook, in which he was furiously drawing with a withered down blue crayon. The boy's lip was sucked into his mouth in concentration as his hand moved rapidly across the page. He looked like a true artist, Frank thought.

Just at that moment however, a figure smacked into the back of Way, causing the latter to draw a messy line across his drawing. Gerard fell from his seat onto the ground, his chin thumping off of the concrete ground. The guy who had fallen, leant off of Gerard as quickly as he'd landed on him and started apologising profusely. It was then Frank realised who it was.

Matthew Banks was incarcerated on the 15th of June 2011 for killing his grandparents in return for them raping him since he was eleven. Most had a certain delicacy around Banks, he was a timid, African American boy with braids in his hair and glasses that sat too close to his face. Having developed a nervous twitch, on top of undiagnosed Tourette's, Frank and Ray cared a lot for Matthew, who usually stuttered his way through most conversations, flinching when someone so much as looked in his direction. And that's why Frank was fucking shitting himself. If Way started his snapping tongue in Matthew's way, Frank would be forced to intervene, and he really didn't want Way to have another black eye.

Matthew desperately apologised to Way, reluctantly putting out his hand to help him up but grasping it back in fear Way would hurt him. Frank started towards the two, but Sam yanked his arm back.

"Don't make enemies with that guy, Iero", he growled, as the group then looked on at the scene.

Way stood up slowly, brushing down his ass and rubbing at his scraped up chin.

"I really am s-s-sorry", Matthew cried out. "Please, please forgive me".

Gerard then gently brought out his hand, to which Matthew shrieked a little and jumped back. But Way's face looked kind and peaceful.

"It's okay man, it was an accident", Way smiled gently. He pushed his pale hand out further. "Shake on it?"

Matthew stared at Gerard confusedly. Disbelieving the fiery red heads kind gesture.

"It's okay", Gerard giggled, taking Matthew's hesitant hand in his own, gently shaking it. Gerard then gazed at Frank over Matthew's shoulder and graced a warm closed-lip smile.

Frank nearly died.

That smile made the hairs on the back of his stand alert. It made his organs curl up under his skin, it made his heart spark in his chest, it made him grace the same stupid smile back.Having thought Way was a murdering psychopathic asshole Frank was pleasantly surprised to see him being nice to Matthew. And he was also fucking dying because of that goddamn cute smile. And there was no denying that he was looking directly at Frank, because he was, and also the fact that Sam said "he's looking at you" about one thousand times over.

Way's eyes broke contact with Frank's, giving Frank a chance to breathe. Way rubbed a gentle hand on Matthew's back, before turning away and going back to hunching over his drawing. Matthew non discreetly ran over to Frank and the group, to which Way giggled to himself a little, before investing back into his work.

"Did you g-guys see that?", Matthew laughed, blinking furiously, his smile Cheshire and his body jerking. "

"Yeah dude!", Ray smiled back, rubbing Matthew's back in the same spot Way just had.

"He seems nice", Matthew said enthusiastically. "Maybe we should invite him over to talk to us!"

Ray and Frank met eyes then in slight panic because no fucking way, nice or not, was Gerard coming over to talk to them.

"Maybe next time", Frank smiled at Matthew, to which the latter nodded an 'okay'.

"To be honest Matty", Sam said in mock-worry, breathing in a smoke.

"I wouldn't trust that son of a bitch with holding my lunch money", he whispered, getting close to Matthew's face. Frank shoved Sam gently.

"Don't wind him up", he whispered.

"Lisa, she did say life though, didn't she?", Sam murmured, more to himself than the group.

"Yeah. Yeah", he recalled, scratching his chin. Matthew ferociously shook his head. Frank swallowed a breath of smoke.

"Think he murdered someone?", Sam suggested quietly. Matthew whimpered in fear, hunching his shoulders in.

"Maybe", Sam started in an eerie voice. "He kidnapped little kiddies straight from school. Maybe he got the little boys and girlies to dress in their school uniform and bend over his kitchen table..." Matthew shrieked, bringing his hands to cover his ears, shaking his head profusely.

"Sam, shut the fuck up", Frank bit, looking at Matthew worriedly. Ray placed a comforting hand on the shaking man's back.

"Or maybe he dragged the little kiddies down the basement and tied them to the floor in chains", Sam menaced, getting close and spitting in Matthew's face. To be honest, Frank was ready to fly for the greasy haired rat, he never fucking liked him. They just followed him around like a lonely wet _dog_.

"Maybe he went inside his wardrobe full of toys and whips", Sam whispered, Matthew began howling then and frankly Frank had had fucking enough.

"Maybe he chose his favourites then went up to the little boy and", Sam was cut off as Frank smacked him across the face. Sam yelled and clutched his cheek.

"The fuck, Iero?", Sam shrilled, taking a step back.

"What don't you get, Barts? None of us fucking like you?", Frank shouted, moving towards Sam.

"M'sorry! Sorry", Sam yelled, raising his hands to his face.

"Yeah? Tell that to Matthew", Frank said, lowering his voice and turning to the shaking man. Sam rolled his eyes, meeting the glowering one's of Ray's.

"Apologise", Ray mouthed, rubbing Matthew's back.

"Look man, I'm sorry", Sam said gently. Matthew reluctantly lowered his hands.

"He doesn't look _that_ threatening", Ray said kindly to Matthew, gently rubbing his upper back.

"Maybe he just stole from the president or something", Ray laughed light heartedly. Matthew nodded furiously.

"Yeah!", Frank smiled, but nothing felt genuine anymore. The boy was in here for life, there was only two ways to be jailed for that long; terrorism or murder and Frank didn't know which he preferred. Looking at the boy, kneeled over a notebook, his bottom lip sticking out, furiously sketching with a crayon, he looked so _innocent_. So incapable of all the ghastly things everyone in this jail had in common. He looked beautiful, pure, angelic. His hair gently sculpting his face, a small smile gracing his lips, his eyebrows furrowed into confusion as he analysed his sketches. There was something so pure in seeing someone so passionate and dedicated to something that would amount to nothing. A person writing a guitar piece that they'll never play to anyone. Someone writing a story just to eventually shred it. A convict sketching in a book, that will never end up outside the prison walls.

It was sort of sad really. But it intrigued Frank, he couldn't help but want to know what Gerard had done and what had drove him to it. Had he murdered his next door neighbour? Had he shot up his school? Frank didn't know. And there was a blazing fire in his heart that wanted to find out, but a water hose in his head furiously trying to discourage him. It made Frank really want to fucking cry because in ten years time he'll be sitting in a coffeeshop in the middle of nowhere and this beautiful creature will still be sketching a stupid drawing that no ones ever going to see. Frank came to the realisation that if it was himself, he wouldn't think twice about suicide. He'd bang his head off of his cell wall so many times that his skull would shatter, and he could die peacefully knowing that this hell was over. Because for everyone, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Even poultry-beating murderer Sam had been given a number. A year to stick on the calendar, a date to count down too. But not Gerard. He doesn't know when or how he'll get out. He could be released tomorrow or left to rot and die until he's old and grey. And that was the sickest thing of all, Frank thought. To be hopeful that maybe one day there is a small possibility that Gerard will see life outside those prison walls, but never actually knowing. It must be the thing that stops him from beating his head off of the wall. It must also be the thing that fuels his attitude like there's no tomorrow.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment and said a little prayer for the cute goddamn son of a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Way has a heart! This chapter was a lot less dramatic than others, but it has to be done sometimes to keep up with the plot. I will admit that this chapter is shitty in comparison, I've found I'm really quite bad at fillers. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and criticism again mean everything!


	7. Mistakes

Over the course of the day, Matthew became obsessed that Way was the missing member that they needed to complete their group of misfortunates. They weren't exactly a _group_ , Frank would say, only a few delirious inbetweeners who really were desperate to stay out of trouble. Ray was Frank's only real friend, Matthew was more of a responsibility and he never considered them to be any more than acquaintances. But Ray and his stupid god damn caring complex had taken Matthew under his wing, and Frank couldn't say no to Ray's desperate eyes that willed that Matthew should stay.

So that was that. Sam however was another matter in himself. Frank hated the God damn skin that sat on his slimy body. Unlike Ray, Frank could see through Sam's transparently white skin. He completely repulsed him. He was poison. But again Ray was too sentimental and caring and welcomed Sam in as a friend in this now so-called clique. And Frank was getting really fucking tired of this free for all. That's why when Matthew asked for the tenth time if they could invite Gerard to sit with them at dinner, Frank blew his lid.

"Matthew! Are you fucking _demented_?", he shouted, enraged, belting his hand off of the cafeteria table. He leaned closer to the confused boy but never lowered his voice.

"Did you not see what he did yesterday? He stabbed someone! You really wanna sit with someone who could plunge a knife into your fucking neck at any given moment?", Frank realised he was stepping out of line as Ray repeatedly nudged him and whispered 'Frank' with the side of his mouth, but he didn't have as much patience for fucking imbeciles as Saint _fucking_ Toro did.

"Shut up Ray", Frank snapped, standing then and banging the table again, attracting the attention of a few onlookers. But Ray didn't stop repeating his name. The boy may have been cute. His little pixie features, his stupid smirk and his kindness to Matthew were endearing, but Frank believed Way had an ulterior motive. Gerard Way was like adenium. Beautiful to look at but dangerous to touch. And Frank wasn't about to take any chances.

"You go sit with that weird blood-licking, toothbrush-sharpening, cock-sucking whore if you want. He's fucking heartless, and I'm not interested!"

"FRANK!", Ray shrieked, shoving Frank's side, so much so he fell back to his seat.

"What?", Frank snapped back, turning to Ray, positively fuming. Why was he always expected to take a moral high ground? This was prison, not some school or church or party. Eat or be eaten. But it was the nervousness in Ray's eyes that made Frank feel he was what was served for dinner. Ray was staring behind him, his eyes wide and panicking. Frank followed Ray's gaze to holy-fucking-shit- _no_ Gerard who was standing right behind him. His face was one of steel, no anger, no happiness, just emotionless. His lips were pulled into an unwavering line, his cheeks jutting out where his jaw met. He held a tray of potatoes in his hands, which were white at the knuckles. Frank swallowed loudly, slightly terrified of what Way had overheard.

Frank hurriedly looked away and scanned around the cafeteria, looking to the mustard walls for inspiration. Nothing.

"I'm so sorry about that", Ray, of course, whispered gently to Gerard. Way's lips twitched in response, his eyes remained staring into thin air. The silence that followed made Frank's guts turn in his stomach. He didn't want to be stabbed or battered with plates. He truly believe he was going to shit his pants there and then.

"It's all true anyway, isn't it?", Gerard giggled almost sadly. Frank turned back to Way then, confused. Wasn't the boy supposed to be angry? He met his eyes then, Gerard's appearing softly green under the yellow hue of the cafeteria. Dim but pretty. Way stared back. His eyes burning into Franks, but he didn't look hurt- Frank realised-he didn't look anything.

The side of Way's mouth twitched into a hooked smile momentarily, if Frank blinked he would have missed it. It made his skin crawl, a strange suspension arising between the two.

"I'm sorry man", Frank muttered, loading his gaze from Way's eyes, turning back to looking across the table into nothingness.

"No, I'm sorry", Way drawled, a gently throaty laugh following. Frank gripped the table, ready to run if he had to. He was prepared for whatever the fucked up bastard was gonna do now.

"Once a whore always a whore!", he said in a sing-song voice, which fell from his lips so finely, Frank almost didn't regret the turn out of this conversation. His voice was raw but angelic, but Frank didn't have time to consider. Way suddenly bent down over his shoulder, strands of his red head of hair piercing Frank's eye. Gerard balanced his tray of food in one hand. Frank gulped back his fear and intrigue and possible attaction. Way's neck was so close to his lips, Frank could see the jut of his jawline, and the way his anger forced his cheekbones to sit prominently. His neck glowed ruggedly, Frank could see his soft brown stubble. He smelled like cigarettes and coffee and charcoal and Frank nearly whimpered under their proximity. He could feel the deep angry breaths on his neck. Suddenly, Way brought out his empty hand and turned to smile at Frank, before whipping Frank's tray off of the table, it rattled noisily to the floor. Still bent over Frank's shoulder, Gerard pulled his most innocent eyes and looked deep into Frank's. He mouthed a small 'oops' before biting his lip softly and leaning off of Frank.

"It seems I've dropped your lunch, silly me", he laughed, sweeping his hair from his face gently, then gripping his cheeks in mock surprise.

"I'm not hungry. I would offer you my potatoes but I've already began eating them and you don't know where my whore mouth has been, right?", Gerard said eloquently, before dropping his tray with a clatter on top of Frank's.

"Got to run. Toothbrushes to be sharpened. Cocks to be sucked", he smirked bitterly, before turning on his heel and marching out of the dingy cafeteria. Frank's eyes followed Way out, the fire to his walk indicating he was furious.

Ray put his head in his hands. "Seriously, Frank?", he groaned. "You need to apologise to that guy before he passes his personal warrant for your head!"

"A blowjob if someone's beats you up, probably", Sam cackled, Frank drew his eyes from Sam to the edge of his crooked nose.

"I wouldn't get too bitchy with me, Frankie boy!", Sam bellowed, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back into his chair so it creaked loudly.

"Don't believe I wouldn't think twice about smashing your skull of the side of this table, just to get a chance with him", he smiled, his lips the personification of the word 'cocky'. Frank brushed it off, rolling his eyes at the annoying man with the annoying voice and stared back to the exit that Way had just left through. It was in that moment Frank realised how much power the boy actually held. Here was a convicted fellon, quaking in his boots because he simply stated the truth. And it wasn't just the situation or the bad timing, it was because it was _Gerard_. Over the course of a day, the seemingly vulnerable man had already started to construct his throne above the other prisoners there. Sometimes it took a day to build a throne for those with a dark history or family roots, others it took decades to even get one brick down, some never at all. But it had taken Frank years to even lay the foundations, and even then he didn't want to be a King. But that was the difference between Gerard and Frank. Gerard has came so unconventionally prepared, with a wicked tongue and an attitude to match. Gerard wanted to be seen, Gerard wanted to be heard. He almost functioned like a man with no ties, like a man with nothing to loose. Like the perfect King of convicted felons. Like the perfect angel of hell.

And something about his weird power dynamic made Frank die to apologise, and beg to be forgiven. He wanted to be one of a Way's little slaves, one of his little conmen, one cog in his murder machine. Because kneeling down at Gerard's feet would be a thousand times better than biting his nails in fright like Frank did now.

And maybe Frank really _was_ sorry for what Way had overheard. And quite honestly Frank understood that storming out of a cafeteria meant that Way didn't feel too great himself. It was then Frank realised maybe he should apologise not only for himself- to save his own ass- but for the stupid fucked up fairy with the honest eyes and the menacing smile. Frank pushed off of the table and trotted over his splattered dinner. He noticed then that his trouser legs were covered in the creamy cheese sauce, that quite frankly, looked like something more obscene. Sam sniggered.

"Where are you going?", Ray asked hesitantly, beginning to stand himself, agitation begining to show in his usually soft features. Frank scratched the back of his head, awkwardly.

"I'm going to apologise", he whispered back, his leg beginning to jiggle in anticipation. 

"Want me to come?", Ray offered, his eyes filled with concern. He leaned forward over the table, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Y'know, for... protection?"

Frank just graced a gentle smile back, hiding any nerves behind his teeth.

"It's okay", he breathed out, giving Ray knowing eyes which said "If I die, thanks for being my friend". Ray reluctantly sat back, his stance lowering, letting Frank go.

The younger then set off, as nervousness truly settled in his gut then. What if Way _really_ hurt him. What if he wasn't a misunderstood hurt soul but a viscous criminal, the second was certainly more likely. Frank could see it now, the fascination in the psychotic's eyes, the hitch of laughter from his throat. He imagined Way grabbing him from behind, his delicate finger's closing around Frank's throat, and although stronger, Frank would falter due to the surprise. He'd splutter and grip for the walls in panic, he'd flail his arms in a desperate attempt to dislodge Way and the two would fall to the floor like the towers. Way would still have the upper hand though, his knee would bury into Frank's spine and Frank would squirm for release. The intertwined pair would roll around the floor like lust-filled teens, gasping like lovers and sweating like they were under the covers. He'd try to yell but nothing would come out, until he would finally become peacefully restless, physically dead but mentally alive. And Way would roll him over onto his back, his fingers capturing Frank's sweat ridden blue neck once more. Gerard would mutter a snide last comment to Frank, one too well constructed for Frank to imagine himself. And as Frank's last breath would leave his body, he would die quite possibly staring at one of the seven wonders of the world.

What a good way to go, Frank thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed, my darling little sly Way is back, and oh how I missed him! Any criticism or comments would do me the world of good. Sending my love to you all.


	8. Bunks

The only noise Frank could hear was the repetitive thudding of his reluctant foot steps as he made his way to Way's cell. The _tap tap tap_  however couldn't draw him from his thoughts though, and his fears. And his confusion over what he felt. Frank couldn't tell if he admired Way, despised him or desired him. The boy felt like a ticking time bomb, so intricately made but awaiting an explosion.

Frank felt the hairs on his neck stand upright as he made his way to Gerard's cell. Gerard _terrified_ Frank. It wasn't the stabbing particularly, or the sly words that made Frank wish he was anywhere but here, it was his unpredictability. He was new undiscovered and un-investigated territory. What happens if you poke him with a stick? What happens if you leave him in the sunlight too long? What happens if you develop feeling for him?

Gerard was foreign and new, like Frank's first kiss or his first day in jail. He was not only new and undiscovered but intense in his way of everything he done. The only word Frank could find to describe him was _extraordinary_. He was one extreme to the other.Gerard was a first drink, a first smoke, a loss of virginity. He was fire and ice and nothing in between.

And maybe that's why he made Frank feel hot and cold at the same time. Why he made him sweat and shiver. Maybe years of being in between made Frank realise he needed a little intenseness in his life. But intense was feelings, and feelings meant attachments, and attachments meant _danger_. Frank couldn't do _it_ again.

Frank approached Way's cell with hesitance. He peered in to see Gerard laying on his bunk. His eyes were closed and he was singing.

_"Hey little girl is your daddy home, did he go and leave you all alone? Oh, I have a bad desire. Oh, I'm on fire"._

The words left Gerard's puckered pink lips and danced through the air. His voice was beautiful. It was broken, but filled with melody. He had really lived.

He hadn't noticed Frank's presence. His eyes remained closed, his eyelashes fluttering over his pale cheeks. Looking at him now, Frank didn't feel afraid. Gerard looked innocent. His bright hair framed his cherub face, making his cheeks appear less gaunt but more youthful. He looked no older than eighteen and it confused Frank. How could someone who looked so innocent and soft be so vicious? And why did his voice sound so _pained_?

Abruptly, the singing stopped and Frank snapped out of his trance to look down at Way who was staring back up at him. His angelic face now formed into one of anger. Gerard's devil metaphor surely seemed accurate right now, Frank thought.

"The fuck do you want?" Gerard snapped, trying his best to mask the effort he was making to look up at Frank. Frank shuffled on his feet, the noise squeaky and awkward in the silence.

  
"Um," Frank choked out, raising his hand to uncertainly comb through his mid length hair.

"Ummmm?" Gerard mocked, sitting up on his bunk then, turning his body to face Frank. His features appeared proud and smug that he'd manage to displace Frank's thoughts, the crease on lips taunting the shyer man.  
"I-I just wanted to y'know apologise for acting like such a dick, I really didn't me-" Gerard cut Frank off as he snorted out a laugh.  
Frank stopped short.

"Excuse me?" Frank asked confused.  
Gerard continued to laugh to show Frank had really put him in stitches. His cackle was loud and bounced through the cells, making Frank feel small and attacked by the noise coming from all angles.

"Oh, sorry," Gerard hummed, coming down from his high. He raised his eyes to wipe away fake tears.

"Sorry, the thing is that was really funny, but I think I must have misheard you, _Frankie_. Did you just say you're apologising to _me_?" Gerard grinned, his eyes and the use of the nickname making Frank feel uncertain.

Frank nodded and gulped back his reluctant fear and stood more proudly.  
"I'm apologising, I didn't mean for you to hear what I thought of you. What I said was offensive and probably hurt your feelin-"

"Do you think I fucking care what you think of me?" Gerard shrieked, so loudly Frank jumped backwards. He never knew Gerard to react by raising his voice. He seemed distressed as he stood up from his bunk, a few strands of hair falling to corner his eyes.  
"I-I.." Frank fell over his words before Gerard cut him off again.

"I don't need an apology, an apology implies that I am hurt or upset by what you said but I'm _not,"_ he snapped, beggining to move towards Frank who proceeded to step backwards, like they were partaking in a dance.

"True, I am a fucking psychopath, but at least I'm not the idiot who chose to _mess_ with a psychopath," he stalked towards Frank, raising his voice, letting his pretty hand fly around the air in fury. Frank backed towards the cell behind and hit the bars with a slam, but Way kept coming.

"You brought a pen to sign you're own fucking deathwish with me, sunshine. I never asked to be in your God damn 'clique'," he mocked, his hands immitating speech marks.  
"I asked to be left the hell alone!"

Frank could feel Gerard's fury radiating out of his pores. They seeped out of his skin, leaving it oily and laced with sweat. The fury oozed like a warning, like something an animal does to mark it's territory. This was Gerard's territory now, and Frank was too small to play with the big boys.

Gerard let go of a breath Frank didn't know he was holding, and Frank watched as the tension left his eyebrows. Gerard began to smile out of the blue, his lips slowly twitching upwards as an exasperated giggle left his lips, it was full of air and falseness. He put his hands on Frank's shoulders and squeezed gently, Frank stealing the breath Gerard has just let go.

"Just..." Gerard whispered, his face so close to Frank, the latter could see everything. He could see from his messy but sculptured eyebrows to a small heat spot under his eye. Never had he been so close to someone who was supposed to be meaningless.

Gerard seemed to snap out of his demeanour and let go of the pressure on Frank's shoulders and pushed off of him, turning back to his cell. Frank, confused, bit his thin drying lips as he watched Way retreat back to his cell.

Gerard lay back in his bunk, the mattress squeaking as Frank turned to walk away from the disaster that was this meaningless but clingy non-relationship. Gerard was like a celebrity when you're a teenager, Frank felt so close to him, yet there was nothing at all but admiration between them.

Just as Frank nearly met the end of the corridor, he stopped in his steps as he heard Gerard call out.

"And for the record, you don't know what I've done and what's been done to me. You're a drug dealer amongst murderers, rapists, pedophiles. I wouldn't go talkin' shit about someone even the psychiatrist can't understand".

Frank shook his head and continued back to the cafeteria.

* * *

The rest of the day felt somewhat meaningless. The hours folded into theirselves as Frank's life returned to what it had been like for the past few years. With Gerard cooped up in his cell, the room felt far less bright without the alarming personality to match the hair. The dull yellows and blues and white bled into each other to make a grey that Frank would have rather gone blind than have stared at for any longer. Frank found himself storming off to his cell early after Sam made a joke about Frank's 'boyfriend' being in a huff with him. Then, in his bed, without even writing in his journal through frustration, he let the hours merge into each other as his eyelids did too.

* * *

 

Frank woke suddenly during the night, irritated, he sighed and placed his head over his pillow, his sleep disturbed by a noise in the prison. In this hellhole Frank woke up to anything and everything. Sometimes to people fighting, others to people fucking, so he tried his best to drown out the outside world with foam and polyester.

Just as Frank began to drift from the reality and into dreamland, he heard the squeak of a mattress, and an aggressive muttering. _Of course,_ someone was having sex. Frank fussed as he tried to ignore it, but the man who sounded as if he was whispering commands couldn't be ignored. Frank, annoyed, took his pillow off of his head and turned to look out of his cell, in hope to see who was creating a ruckus and tell them to fuck _quietly._

In the darkness of the midnight prison, he analysed the forms between the bars of the cells infront of him, until he found the source of the noise.

It was Way's cell.

Frank should have known Gerard would fuck anyone, _even_ the people he hated. He shook his head in disdain as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and the silhouettes of the men became visible.

Way was on his knees facing Frank. He was on the bottom bunk, his hands were pulled out painfully infront of him and tied to the metal pole of the bunk using his worn cream bed sheets. His hands were squeaking where they met the metal, his sweat ridden wrists causing an uncomfortable chaffing. His face was visable, his burning red hair laced between the fingertips of Clarkson, who was sneering behind Way while fucking him with his fingers.

Clarkson was fully clothed and was rutting against Gerard's foot which was messily sticking out behind him. His eyes were closed, in pure bliss and he was muttering offences to Way.  
"Can you _feel_ my fingers inside you pretty boy?" he drawled as he licked up Gerard neck, who shivered.

Way was completely naked bar a white tank top. His face was contorted into pain, and his eyes were open in fear, sweat ran from his hair and down to his chin. He didn't want this.

A small breathy whine erupted from Way's mouth, and he snapped his mouth shut quickly to silence it. Why wasn't he shouting? Why wasn't he asking for help?

  
"That's right baby, moan for daddy," Clarkson groaned, his sweaty pink body slouching and wrinkling over Way's. Frank thought Clarkson's folds would lap over Way so much he'd suffocate him. His fingers laced around the back of Gerard's head and burrowed theirselves into his mouth. Frank could only imagine the smell, the taste, the feeling of the putrid old man inside of Way.

Just as Frank was about to shout for help, Gerard's eyes connected with his and Frank's heart collapsed inside his chest.

  
The pain left Way's eyes and his face became nuetral, like he was trying to hide. Like he was trying to keep it together for Frank. He slowly shook his head a word that sounded like 'no' diluted around Clarkson's four fingers. His chin jutted to the air, Frank could hear his desperate attempts to breath from his cell.

Frank's confusion was reflected in his eyebrows as lifted his hands to the bars in an attempt to signal to Way that _he was here and he wasn't alone and he could fucking help him_. But Way, with serious solemn eyes shook his head.

Frank wanted to scream, to shout, to cry. What the fuck was happening? Did Gerard _want_ it to happen?

Eventually, after another five minutes of Frank staring on in aghast fright, Way gasping over Clarkson's fingers and Clarkson grunting as he fucked Gerard's foot, the older man came with a shudder. He collapsed onto Gerard, pulling his cock out and wiping it on the back of Gerard's legs.  
"There you go, baby," he groaned as he came down. He began kissing the back of Gerard's sun-kissed neck, his lips ghosting over the red hair Frank didn't want to be tainted.

And like reading his mind Clarkson blurted out.

"Your hair is so good to grab onto, maybe tomorrow night I'll fuck you instead, wadd'ya say baby?" He moved round to Gerard's spit covered lips and kissed them gently as Way stared out of the cell, his face sterile.

"That'll teach ya little faggot to mess with me again," he whispered so quietly Frank struggled to make it out, before he hopped out of Way's bunk and back into his own.

Shortly after, the unpleasant snores of Clarkson diffused through the prison. Frank remained staring out of his cell at Gerard who remained like a broken cog that needed oil. Eventually, he stiffly began to pick at the sheet tied around his arms. After around fifteen minutes of scuffling his hands were free, he laced them and stretched them and groaned lightly at the pain in his wrists. Frank watched as Way then unravelled the sheet and began to wipe his shaking back legs with it. Gerard then discarded the sheet in the corner of the cell, climbed into his orange overall and rolled into his bed.

Frank, still lay shocked, his hands still clasping the bars.

"Gerard,"he called hoarsely, his voice laced with sleep but his head alarmingly awake. Gerard ignored him.

"Gerard," he called again. He called five more times.

"Fuck sake Frank," Gerard yelled softly.  
"Go to sleep".

And with that Frank dropped it and turned on his back and stared up to the ceiling.

He cried for this first time since _then_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, all I can say please forgive me for;  
> 1) What I done in this chapter.  
> 2) The long wait.


	9. Pride

_Screams ripped through the prison walls. Frank's first thoughts went to **him**. All of the alarms were ringing in his head, all the while he became enveloped in white noise, he had never heard anything so loud yet so quiet. His feet were moving, running, powering him through the halls yet he felt he was stalk still. After a minute, which felt like a second but at the same time an hour he reached the source of the screams, and his eyes were met with **him** , lying facedown. Frank fell backwards towards the door onto his hands and scurried against the wall. He tried to scream but no noise would come out, he tried to breath but he thought his heart had collapsed onto his lungs. Frank tried to look away as someone turned him over, a paramedic, he guessed but didn't care. His body turned with little force until his hollow eyes stared towards the ceiling. Frank took a quick glance at the body because this couldn't be **him** , it just couldn't. And...it wasn't. Instead of **him** on that cold floor, lying in a pool of his own blood, it was Way. And his face wasn't sad or happy or anything in _ _between, it was nothing; like it always had been. And instead of staring at the ceiling, like his were when he died, Gerard was watching Frank and Frank couldn't help the anguish that sounded from the back of his throat. And Gerard's mouth was covered in blood and his eyes were opened and he was staring and his hands were reaching and Frank couldn't breathe and Frank didn't want to breathe anymore._

* * *

 

Frank awoke with a gasp, almost choking on his tongue in fright. Magsie was at his side, his hand tenderly touching Frank's shoulder.

"You alright boy-o?" He whispered, a hoarse wheeze following his speech as always.

Frank took a minute to breathe and recollect himself, muttering a gentle ' _fuck_ ' under his breath, his mind caught up with Way and everything he had seen last night. Frank sprang up from his bunk, causing Magsie to stumble backwards. The younger man then scanned Way's cell but he couldn't see him, only an unmade bed and a small but still there, droplet of blood on his sheets.

"Wha-Wh-where is he?" Frank stuttered, haphazardly falling from his bed and gripping his bars. No, no, no this couldn't be happening again, not again, not again, not-

"Frank! It's ok son, just you breathe! It's ok" Magsie gently rubbed Frank's back before guiding him to sit down on the lower bunk.

"Mags-Magsie, where is he?" He near shouted, peering over the older man to look out of his cell. Magsie rubbed his collapsing wrinkles of his forehead before sighing deeply and talking slowly.

"Frank, son, listen to me" he said holding onto Frank's shoulders and forcing him to look into his eyes. "You're really not helping anybody, now calm down and talk to me".

Frank, coming closer to his senses but not quite reaching them, let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding and began to explain.

"I know it's prison, and-and I know this kind of thing happens all the time, but Gerard" he stopped to recollect himself and continued. "I seen him get, you know, hurt, last night and he was so, so okay with it. And now he's gone and I'm scared and I know I don't know him but this can't be happening again, it just _can't_ -"

"He's okay" Magsie whispered calmly. Frank looked up then, his face filled with curiousity. "His cell toilet broke last night and he just sweet talked an officer and nipped to the communal toilet instead". Frank fell backwards in relief as Magsie continued.

"Frank, this isn't like last time. Or at least I won't let it be. Stay away from him, please son, he's trouble. You can't go through _that_ again, me and old girl Orange won't let you, will we?" Magsie turned to his sleeping cat still curled on the bed next to Frank. "Now come on boy-o, it's nearly breakfast".

* * *

As soon as he left his cell, Frank's senses became heightened as he scanned around for Gerard. He didn't know what he would say when he spoke to him-he didn't know what he could say. Suffering something so demeaning and painful-even worse with an audience has got to do something to a person, Frank thought.

As he arrived in the cafeteria, Frank stared at the scene that met him with confusion. Gerard was sitting at Frank's table, chatting merrily with Matthew while eating a yoghurt. Frank was taken aback by the boy's nature and approached the table with caution.

"Hi guys" he said nervously, his eyes darting to Gerard's face to see his reaction.

"Oh, hi Frank!" He smiled back before returning to his conversation with Matthew.

"Hey Frank, did you know Gerard used to be an artist?" Matthew asked happily, loving the attention Gerard was giving him as he conversed with him.

"What? Sorry?" Frank said, his tone bewildered.

"Before he came to prison Gerard wa-" Matthew started before Frank cut him off.

"Yeah yeah, I heard you" Frank brushed him off. "I was just wondering if I could talk to Gerard for a moment?" he looked to Gerard accusingly.

Gerard looked back feigning curiousity.

"What about Frank? Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of Matthew, we have no secrets" he smiled as he pried open another yogurt pot.

"Gerard" Frank sighed in exasperation. "I need to speak to you right now".

"No Frank you can-"

"Now!" Frank snapped. Gerard rolled his eyes like a teenager told off by their parent and sighed in exaggeration.

"Whatever" he said as he lead Frank out of the room to speak in private.

"Trouble in paradise?" Sam smiled cockily as he sauntered past, raising an eyebrow to which the two rolled their eyes.

Once they were alone, Frank decided Gerard had wasted enough time and went straight to the point.

"What's going on?" He asked, a mix between concern and frustration.

"Not much really" Gerard yapped staring at his nails critically, still acting aloof, his demeanour off. "What about you?"

"Gerard!" Frank whispered in annoyance, turning away to compose himself before replying. "Don't play dumb with me, I seen you get attacked last night, why didn't you- why didn't you fight him off?"

Gerard scoffed in reply.

"What? And lose?" He asked, itching to escape the conversation.

"You could have asked me for help! You clearly didn't want it and you lay there, completely emotionless as he was quite obviously hurting you" Frank blurted, trying to piece it together and getting nothing.

"Oh Frankie" Gerard sighed, twirling his hair in his fingers daintily.

"What you don't realise is it's not about the pain, it's about the principle" he replied sadly, walking away before Frank could reply.

* * *

Frank returned to breakfast yet didn't eat anything, all the while Ray voiced his concern. Everything he said went right through Frank, his mind completely focused on Way, as the yellow walls climbed down his throat and made him feel sick. Frank decided he'd go back to his cell and write in his journal to try and get his head straight.

As he was walking back, Frank rounded the corner quickly, before thudding into a familiar figure. Frank stumbled backwards as the person fell due to the impact, their head smacking the ground.

  
"Ah, fuck!" they whined.  
Frank, his head hazy from the collision snapped back.

  
"Watch where you're fucking going!", he growled, before looking down to the figure on the floor.

  
It was Way, sprawled across the metallic flooring. He lifted his head and looked back up at Frank, his eyes taking a while to adjust to Frank's features, before his eyes lit up in recognition.

  
"Frankie!" he laughed suddenly, his smile goofy and delayed. He stared for a moment before letting his head thump back onto the floor.

  
"Gerard?" Frank asked hesitantly, slowly stepping towards the other man. Gerard kept his eyes closed, his face completely sterile. Frank nudged Gerard gently on the arm with his foot, but got no response. He tried whistling loudly, and softly slapped the boy's face, he noticed then the cold sweat that lay clammy on Way's skin.

  
"Gerard?!" he yelled loudly, before getting on his knees, grabbing his boney shoulders, and shaking him roughly.

The boy's eyes then sprung awake, he gulped in a breath then looked hazily into Frank's eyes, a smile grew on his dry lips.

  
" _Frank-ie_ " he sang, his voice rough, before lifting a finger and poking Frank on the nose. Frank dropped the boy then, Gerard's eyes returning closed.

  
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" he scolded, before grabbing Way by the face.

"Open your eyes Gerard" he demanded, yet the other ignored him.

"I said open your eyes!" Frank shouted as he attempted to claw them open.

  
"Ow, Ow, Ow" Gerard repeated, attempting to push Frank away from him, clearly confused at the current situation.

  
"Gerard, open you're fucking eyes!", Frank spat, his face red with anger, he _knew_ what was going on.

With an overly expressed sigh, Gerard reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up at Frank.  
His face was red and blotchy, his veins ready to pop out of his skin. His pupils were blown up, the once radiant hazel replaced by two black holes. His lip quivered in a shiver.

"What the fuck are you on?", Frank bit. Gerard acted surprised, typical junkie, Frank thought.

"What are you talking about?", Gerard whined back, brushing his hand in the air as if to say 'nonsense'.

"Who supplied you?", Frank snapped and again Gerard brushed it off shaking his head.  
Angrily, Frank grabbed Gerard by the face again, bringing the sweaty boy closer to him, his red hair clung to his skin.

  
"What. The fuck. Did. You. Take?" he shouted in Gerard's face, but the boy just licked his lips in reply.

  
"Frankie" he said softly.

  
"What?" Frank said, his jaw jutting in anger. Way smiled up at him then, he looked so suddenly delicate.

  
"I'll tell you what I took on one condition" he said gently, his hands raising to fiddle with Frank's collar, almost nervously, Frank thought.

  
Frank gulped then, Way's finger gently whisping across his neck.

  
"What condition?" Frank said, his anger melting, replaced with curiosity and slight worry for the boy.

  
"Kiss me" Way asked, his eyes lifting to look into Frank's. He looked desperate, a little scared, but slightly hopeful.

Frank's mouth dropped open.  
"Wh-what?" he asked, stuttering,  
"Gerard, I-"

"Please" Gerard whimpered, it was barely above a whisper which slipped out of his soft pink lips. Frank lowered his gaze to his mouth, so tempted to join with the soft curves and explore inside. He wanted to hear Gerard moan lightly from the back of his throat, as tongue met tongue and hand met hair and stutter met gasp. He wanted it so much.

"I can't" Frank muttered back, lowering his gaze to the floor, for a moment, then bringing his eyes back to Way's to try to communicate that he was sorry he couldn't-not after what Way had went through the night before.

Gerard's eyes looked like pure pain. They were full and heavy, they held so much meaning, they had so much to say. They were a full world in themselves. A full world inside the universe that made up the beautiful but broken boy in front of him. His eyes seemed to scream hate me in the blown out black pupils, and love me in the soft nutty brown. They eyes were eager, not for love or simply for a kiss, they were eager for a release. They needed something, anything. Frank wondered How could something be so beautiful but so full of pain.

"Please", Gerard gasped, gripping Frank's shoulders with force. Frank turned his head away from Gerard and stood up.  
"Come on Gerard, get up" Frank said, unusually soft for his usual self, however Gerard remained on the cold floor, staring- no longer at Frank- but at the ceiling, where all his feelings, regrets and memories seemed to unforgivably play in his mind.

"Oh God, please", he began to sob and Frank's grimaced as he felt a tremor shake his chest. The sobs were full of heartbreak, the tears desperate to escape his eyes, a message to the world that he needed _help_. Gerard's fingernails pierced into Frank's leg, where he had began to cling onto him for dear life, as his whole body shuddered from the deep emotion from the core of his body. It was as if the cries traveled from deep in his gut, up his spine and chest, making the boy shudder and gasp for air, and out his mouth in painful wheezes. It hurt Frank to see someone he believed was so strong acting so weak.

  
"Frank, p-please" Gerard stuttered. Frank knelt down then and put a hand on Gerard's back soothingly.

  
"Gerard, it-it's okay, it'll be okay" Frank attempted as panic began to course through his veins, but Gerard wouldn't stop crying and Frank began to worry whether the other boy would drown in his own tears.

  
"I need- Oh God" he whimpered as nerves and tears racked his body.

  
"Oh God!" he wailed  
Frank let himself become a rag doll to Way's grips as the other man sobbed.

"Gerard! Snap out of it! It's okay!" Frank attempted as he began to quake under the pressure of Way's arms.

  
Way jumped back then, like a frightened animal that had been whipped and collapsed into a the corner.

  
"How do you know? How can you say that?" he screeched, clawing at his own face in anguish.

  
"You saw what happened to me last night" Way stumbled to his feet as he suddenly gained confidence in his fury.

  
"You seen it! How can you think that's okay?" he pointed to Frank's face, his face alarmingly red and his breathing loud and shaky.

  
"Gerard I'm sorry-" Frank started however Way cut him off with a loud and possessed cackle.

  
"You're _sorry_?" Gerard spat. "As if your apologises change the fact I had a hand up my ass!"

  
"Gerard-don't" Frank cried.  
"I'm just scared for you!"

"Scared? You're scared. Fuck you. What are you scared of little Frankie? Seeing an X rated porn scene while your lying in your cells at night just across the hall. You scared I'll catch you jacking Frankie, like every other motherfucker who could see me last night was? _Roll up roll up_ , come see the amazing pornstar Gerard way get finger fucked, he's so subordinate he won't even fuss, even if his face doesn't say so! Come watch him, he's here to stay, he'll be here tonight and tomorrow night and the next night and the next night and the-"

"Gerard, stop!" Frank pleaded, attempted to cover Gerard's mouth with his hand.

"No!" Gerard shrieked, so loudly Frank jumped back in fright.

"Why should I stop? No one will ever stop with me?" Gerard yelled, putting his hands in his hair and pulling so hard on the fiery strands that a few ripped out.

"Gerard! Stop hurting yourself" Frank yelled attempting to pry Way's fingers out of his hair. Gerard's eyes zoned in on Frank's then, as Frank managed to handcuff his wrists with his bigger hands.

"Why? So someone else can hurt me instead?" He yelled trying to free his wrists from Frank's tight hold.

"Maybe they hurt you because you act so fucking promiscuous all the time!" Frank shouted in Gerard's face, all his frustration and things he couldn't say bursting out at the wrong moment Gerard stilled. He was no longer squirming or crying or yelling. He gently took his hands from Frank's grip and Frank let him, as the red haired man leant against the wall defeatedly.

"Frank, oh little Frankie" he murmured, gasping at the same time in an attempt to catch his breath. His heavy lidded eyes and bulging pupils caught Frank in their glance.

"Have you ever considered the reason I may act so promiscuous is so I can at least have some goddamn pride" he said gently. Frank gulped, confused.

"Pride? What pride do you have in people rap-taking advantage of you?" Frank asked, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

"The thing is Frankie, people will inevitably 'take advantage' of me, whether I like it or not. It's the way it's always been. Being so pretty comes at a price. Now add prison onto that bill and I owe someone a hell of a lot of money" Gerard scratched his head nervously, and coughed before continuing.

"Some debt collector will _always_ come to take the money from me, so why not instead give him the cash so he doesn't steal it from me" he shrugged, as if it made sense, yet Frank didn't understand.

"Gerard what-"

"No matter what I do, someone will take it from me" Way huffed, looking to the floor in- was that- _embarrassment_ Frank saw.

"So in acting promiscuous" he continued. "It makes me feel like I have a say in what happens to me. Instead of being dragged kicking and screaming I act like I at some level _want_ it. So that when they take it- they will never believe that they have broken me. I hand it to them, so they don't have the privileging of taking it and breaking me".

Gerard hiccuped and breathed in shakily and in the soft silence Frank understood and managed to suppress the sob at the whole situation.

He looked up at Gerard and they both shared the same pain in their eyes. Both situations were so different, Gerard was suffering, big style, and he would continue to suffer until he got out of prison or somehow ended up dead- the latter seemed more probable. Frank however would have to spend every day for the rest of his life wondering, did the beautiful, lively boy who pranced in the prison just a short while before ever get to live without pain? Probably not. Frank stared at Way right then, open and bare. His red hair scrapped back behind his ears and his eyes channelling his exhaustion and defeat. He had placed his trust and heart in Frank's hands, who was barely an acquaintance never mind a friend. But Way stared back, desperate and pleading. And then Frank realised that he couldn't stay away from Gerard simply because what had happened to _him_ , he owed Gerard at least the courtesy of one ally in hell. This thing was bigger than Frank and his overly sensitive feelings.

Frank looked at Gerard thoughtfully and the other's mouth twisted in confusion.

"What is it Fran-" Gerard was cut off when Frank encased him in a hug. His arms wrapped around the other, and although taller, his smaller frame seemed to fit in Frank's arms perfectly. Frank buried his face into Gerard's chest and muttered a heartfelt "sorry" because he was sorry. He was sorry for how he'd treated Gerard, he was sorry for the way everyone else treated him, he was sorry for what he had to endure, he was sorry for his life.

Gerard was taken aback and stood stalk still as Frank hugged him, the air stolen from his chest due to the force of the hug. He couldn't understand the feeling of someone showing him physical contact that didn't feel degrading or too personal- but all he knew was it felt _good_. After a few moments, Gerard lent into Frank also, and shivered back a cry.

"Curse the man who has the honour of being scared for me" he whispered into Frank's ear as the two stayed intertwined.

"Curse you Frank Iero". 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll start by apologising for the lack of updates, as usual. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please leave reviews it means the world! And thank you everyone who is still reading, I love you.


	10. Chapter 10

Hi guys,

I want to give an explanation as to where I've been the past year and a half. A huge amount of my life has changed since then, I have so many more priorities now. I wasn't even considering coming back to this fic now my life has matured so drastically. But I had this nagging feeling to check my email account that I've connected and it was filled with beautiful comments everyone has left, it's left me feeling incredibly inspired. I am now prepared to start constructing another chapter if there is still any readers out there. I've missed you all dearly and I hope there is still a little light out there burning for incarceration.

Jonny x

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated. Follow me on tumblr @jonnymonts for updates and shit.


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